


A Mother's Love

by Mysdrym



Series: Andraste's Witch [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood Magic, Death, Demonic Possession, Despair, Lots of Angst, Sadness, all that, also postpartum post-traumatic stress disorder, is v sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:32:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysdrym/pseuds/Mysdrym
Summary: This is the story of how Finley's mom became possessed and why a certain demon has such an interest in her.





	

She wasn’t supposed to survive the escape from the tower.

The moment she’d stumbled across him, huddled in the woods, attempting in vain to start a campfire without using magic and failing miserably, his head had snapped up, and he’d held a blade to his palm, ready to go down fighting.

There had been a moment of silent confusion between them before his face had shifted, and she’d known. Her actually meeting up with him hadn’t been a part of his plans at all.

He’d originally found her shortly after she’d learned she would be made tranquil—they’d felt she was too weak to resist demonic temptation—and she had been certain that he was Maker-sent. Here was a practiced mage, willing to help her escape the fate of tranquility. He had been the first person to care about her in a long time. It had felt so surreal, too good to be true.

And it had been.

He had told her to go to get their phylacteries, to break them and then meet him so that they could escape. She hadn’t been able to find a way into the chamber though, and had been going to tell him as much when she’d realized that he was already gone.

She had been the bait, the slow and stupid apprentice mage who would attract the templars’ attention while he got away, his disappearance noticed too late for the trail to be warm.

Except he hadn’t considered that she did pay attention to details. He hadn’t expected that she’d get halfway to the chamber and realize she would need a templar’s help to access their phylacteries. He hadn’t thought she would go back to him with this problem.

What _had_ he thought she would do? Run screaming at the door? Try to open it with lightning? Get caught trying to pick the lock?

It had hurt a little, but she hadn’t given herself time to dwell on that fact. They had gone over guard changes and patrol routes and without thinking, she’d followed the path they’d discussed.

It shouldn’t have worked, not alone, but she’d always been such a weak mage, always someone who blended into the background, who was easily forgotten. Someone talked over and never missed.

With each step, she’d wondered why she’d never tried to flee before, wondered if it would have always been this easy to escape.

Then she’d found out that most of the templars were already looking for _him_ and she wasn’t even on their minds. He’d been counting on her distraction to keep them off _his_ trail, and instead it had worked in reverse.

She’d blundered her way through the woods for a week before she’d finally found him. How she’d gotten there before the templars was a wonder in itself—or it would have been, if she hadn’t come across one badly burned body already.

And then when she found him…

It was a single look that told her he’d never cared about her at all, that she was just a means to an end, and yet rather than dart off on her own, she’d sat beside him and pulled on the memories of her childhood, starting a small fire to keep some of the cold at bay.

After all, who else did she know outside of the tower walls? Who else could she rely on?

When she’d been a girl, fresh to their prison, she’d waited every day for her father to come save her. He was the most respected man in the village, and she’d _known_ that he would never turn his back on her. Not his little girl. He _loved_ her.

So every day she would wait for one of the templars to come up and apologize for the mistake, that her father was there to take her home. The templars would unpack her things, and she would pack them back, waiting. Always waiting. They’d finally let her do as she would, knowing she was too innocent—or perhaps simply too stupid—to run off on her own.

It had taken her over a year to realize that her father wasn’t the man she’d always thought he was. Or perhaps she was the one at fault, not the daughter he’d though he’d had. The daughter he could be proud of. The day her magic had come in, he’d said over and over about how their family had no history of it.

There’d been such devastation in his eyes, and when she’d gone to hug him, he’d recoiled from her. Only for a moment, but it had hurt so much. She’d tried to forget, tried to come up with reasons for it, but in her heart she’d known. That was the day she’d stopped being his daughter.

Her father had been the best man in the world, and even he hadn’t come to save her, so how could she possibly expect to survive on the kindness of strangers? Perhaps, if she was useful enough, her fellow mage wouldn’t abandon her like the rest of the world had.

That had been her reasoning in the beginning, and really it never left her, but sometimes, when the templars were far enough behind them and the weather was fair, she could almost imagine they were happy together. He’d let her prattle on about settling down somewhere quiet, where no one would ever find them, and they could live forever, in peace.

He never talked about the future. It was like he’d already accepted that there wouldn’t be one. Not a real one, anyway.

Those fleeting, happy days had come to an end when she began to show.

It had been a poor choice. She knew they meant nothing to each other, and yet she laid bare beside him, taken him in her, wanting to feel wanted, if only for a little while.

The babe, though…as her belly had swollen, he had grown more and more bitter, constantly ranting about how could they take care of something so small when they could barely take care of themselves, but she…

She had had hope. She remembered how much she loved her own parents, how she’d always felt at peace and safe with them, how they’d always seemed content with her—before her magic, of course.

She wouldn’t care if the little one was a mage or if they weren’t. She would hold them and care for them, keep them safe. Her child would always be loved, and he…he was a blood mage, but he was still good enough. Despite his bitter words, he _had_ grown to care for them.

Things would be okay, and they would be a family.  

And their little one would not grow up to fear magic. Their little one would love them. They would love _her_ , and she would finally have a home again.

She could never say why he actually stayed with her. Perhaps he’d been as afraid of being alone as she was, but even when her steps had gotten slow, her ankles swollen and her whole body aching and painful, he’d stayed. He’d complained to no end—always about how neither of them knew anything about childrearing or how they had so little they could offer one, that their little one would never have a good life—but he hadn’t left.

Even when the templars caught up. It would have been so easy for him to leave her to be the bait again, but he didn’t. As he’d stood beside her, white-knuckled grip on his staff, gaze darting over the templars as they circled, she’d almost thought he might love her, that they would stand together in the end, and fight for each other.

And then he’d thrown his staff down and put his hands up, asking for mercy, like he might actually accept a fate of being dragged back to the Circle.

But even if he got to go back, even if he could subsist on that shadow of a life in the tower, of always being watched and always suspected of something, she couldn’t.

They had decided to make her tranquil, and she doubted that would change. Especially after she’d run.

More than that, they would take her child away. The little one would be given to the chantry, raised to love the Chant and the Maker and His Bride, and they would never know of her. She would be a passing thought, a curiosity quickly forgotten.

If she went back with the templars, she would never be loved.

And so while he gave in to cowardice, she fought. She caught the first templar by surprise, striking him down with lightning.

Her second spell was interrupted, though, and the blade that followed cut quick and deep. She thought she heard him call out to her, shout something about a baby, and the truth of the past few months finally struck her.

She’d never been the one he’d cared about.

There had never been anyone who’d really loved her, had there?

Bile and blood had choked her as she’d laid there, feeling the life drain out of her, everything dimming down into a muted murmur.

Was it really too much to want to be loved? To have someone who looked at her like she wasn’t a waste or a disappointment or…simply nothing?

Everything was slipping away, and that scared her more than thoughts of tranquility or being alone.

It wasn’t _fair_.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the life she’d been dealt, wasn’t it? It had never been in the cards for her to find happiness, and she should have just accepted it a long time ago. What had she even fought for? For a house that would never exist? For a family that would never be like the one she clung to in her memories? A family that clearly hadn’t been as good as she tried to remember. After all, they’d discarded her so quickly as soon as she was inconvenient…

She should have given up so long ago, but then she’d always been too stupid to do that. Just like waiting a year for a hero to ride in who never would, she’d just never known when to let go.

Now, though…now it was time. She’d fought, and she’d lost, and perhaps the stories were true and the Maker would take her to his side, and she’d finally be wanted by _someone_.

As she’d drifted, giving in to the numbness sweeping through her, she’d felt a kick in her stomach, a little life struggling even as she gave up.

It had staved off that embrace of the void, reignited her terror, though now it was refocused and sharper.

Her hand had been dealt, and it was a cruel one, but she’d still known what it was like to be loved, for a little while. She’d known what it was like to run through fields with her brother, to dance in her father’s arms, to cook with her mother.

Her little one would never know any of that. They would disappear before they’d ever even had a breath of air. Even if they’d been given to the Chantry, even if they’d never known her, they could have grown into something wonderful.

How selfish was she that she’d put her own wants ahead of their needs?

The world was slipping away, and as it did, the Fade seemed closer, somehow. Perhaps people really did pass through it on their way to the Maker.

She’d always heard that it was hard for mages, dealing with the demons, dealing with the whispers, but she’d never had to worry much about it. If there were whispers, they’d always lost interest in her quickly. She was too weak, after all.

But here now, with each breath fainter than the last, she had the clearest connection she’d ever felt with that ethereal dream world.

And so, with what little magic was left in her, she reached out, for anything, pride, despair, rage, a wisp, for the Maker’s sake.

Anything that would help her make this right.

As her hold on reality slipped, she felt a gaze upon her, not cold or cruel, not welcoming or reassuring.

**_Tell me, mage. Why do you bother me?_ **

She could have cried as she reached out. “Please. Please, whatever you want. Just don’t let them die.”

**_You have nothing I want._ **

“Please…don’t let me die having killed them with me….” She’d pleaded, not sure where to look, feeling herself grow weaker and weaker and weaker, like she was disappearing. The creature’s attention was wandering. “They say demons want to shape the world of the waking. You can. Through me.”

**_I doubt that._ **

Her next words were barely a thought, barely strung together as everything faded away.

_You can save an entire life. A life that can grow into anything. If that’s not shaping the world of the waking, I don’t know what is. Please…don’t let them die because of me._

There was a pause, and emptiness, that void stretching out forever.

**_There will be a price for my aid._ **

_Anything._

**_I want to understand. I want to know why this life matters so much more than yours. You will give me that knowledge._ **

_Of course. Whatever you want._

**_We have a deal._ **

And then the world came rushing back, pains, and aches, and power, and screams as the templars fell to magic far stronger than they were accustomed to dealing with.

…-…

She sat on a rock, staring down at the little life swaddled in one of the templars’ old cloaks they’d taken after the battle. So tiny and fragile. When she started to reach out, she felt that damned thing in her head stir and pulled her hand back to herself.

She’d thought the templars had been bad, but having that thing watch from inside of her, having it know her thoughts before she’d fully realized them…

**_You wanted this._ **

It liked to remind her that. Damned thing couldn’t let her forget that _she’d_ been the one to reach out, to beg for a deal. Smug monster.

“I wanted to be loved,” she whispered in response.

**_I would not have agreed for something so selfish. You wanted to save a life. It was a noble wish._ **

They’d had this argument before. There had been a time when she’d felt the demon was right, that she had had a moment where she’d wanted nothing more than for that little thing to flourish, with or without her, but she couldn’t remember. More and more, there were pieces of her that seemed to just be…gone.

No.

Not gone. Taken, as per their deal. It hadn’t told her that giving the knowledge would mean giving away entire memories. Entire pieces of herself.

She’d been tricked…

Tricked into forgetting that she’d loved that little thing more than anything in the world.

Hadn’t she?

No, she wouldn’t forget something like that. A parent’s love didn’t just go away. If she couldn’t remember it, it was because it had never been there. Just like her parents. They’d never loved her, either. After all, she couldn’t remember them ever being kind toward her, couldn’t remember much of anything of them, really.

There were so many holes in her memory.

She still remembered the fight with the templars, remembered thinking how unfair it had been that she had been dealt such a poor hand, that fate would be so cruel to _her_.

“I _wanted_ to be loved,” she snapped in response, as though putting enough resolve in her voice would somehow make the monster in her head unable to see the uncertainty and fear in her mind.

Too loud, her voice stirred the little one, and it began to make that awful noise. The only thing it ever did was cry.

This wasn’t…

She hadn’t _wanted_ this.

She’d wanted a family, something happy, not that wretched sobbing, _hour_ after _hour_ , _day_ after _day_.

Without thinking, the little bundle was in her hands, arms raised up, ready to hurl it away from her, to make it _stop_. Why couldn’t it just shut up?

“None of that,” her own voice reprimanded her, her arms lowering gently and her hold on the crying child shifting to cradle it closer. Even when she wasn’t in control, she could still hear that damned thing’s sobs. The monster rocked the child, humming the song of a people that no longer existed.  

Trapped inside her own head, she screamed. Screamed to drown out that damned crying, screamed to drown out the sound of her own voice singing that damned song she’d never learned, screamed because it was _all_ she could do.

“If you can’t behave, I shall have to do something about you,” the demon muttered, fingertips brushing lightly over the child’s face. Despite the words, she knew that they were for her, not the little one. The monster loved that broken, sobbing little thing.

Especially its eyes.

As though to mock her, the demon twirled, rocking the child carefully, stretching _her_ lips into a smile that she would never give that little burden. Finally, it shut up, though that was hardly any better. Instead, bright, awful eyes stared up at them, golds ringing the irises, as though part of the Fade itself was trapped there and peeking out, reminding her of the pact she’d made that had made her lose all the things she’d never thought could be taken away.

And for what?

For a broken child that took a demon’s attention over hers.

Ungrateful brat.

The demon ignored her brooding, instead focused on the tiny creature in her arms. “There we are, Little Lamb…that’s good. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. After all, I made a deal, didn’t I?”

She wanted to start screaming again, but a drowsiness filled her, tugging her under, disembodied, into the void. As her consciousness abandoned her, she heard her voice continue on, speaking sweetly to the little one.

“That’s right…no more tears. They make it hard to see those pretty eyes…I should imagine you get those from me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. This was really hard for me to write, and I didn't realize until this morning that I hadn't posted it here.


End file.
